Nov 9
11/9/00

Dear Diary,

My close proximity to Keith has considerably sped up the shrinking process. In the two days I've been here he has dwindled down to eye-level with my navel. I have tried so hard to be understanding and patient with him but it's taken every ounce of self-control I've been able to muster to stop myself from breaking every bone in his petulant body or pull every hair, one by one, from his whiny ass. (Well, not just his ass, but his entire body.) This morning I adopted a trial policy of ignoring him… I was Goddess Ignora.
I left, without saying a word to him, bright and early for the mall. I had an absolutely wonderful time shopping and lazing my morning away in solitude. At Toys R Us, I found a lion shaped growth chart, a wall-sized ruler used to mark a child's growth… which I'm going to use to chart Keith's un-growth. I went to Dillard's and lost my mind. I never realized what cute clothes there were in the boys department. I bought him a little of everything-socks, underwear, jeans, shirts, a jacket, shoes. For the last two days, he had been wearing nothing but an oversized University of Illinois Illini T-shirt (I don't even like the Illini!! Michigan, baby… or anyone who plays Duke) that hung past his elbows and knees. I was sick of seeing him look like a lost waif, and it just wasn't proper attire for my afternoon plans.
When I got home, I picked out some coveralls and a dark purple shirt for him to wear. He resisted, he claimed that they would make him look like a kid. I don't know if it was his tone of voice or merely my growing impatience with him in general, but suddenly I decided that I was done coddling him and I was done trying to charm him. Sometimes a little physicality (or brute force, as the case may be) is necessary. In this situation it was a forgone conclusion due to our size differences and his rebellious attitude. I was surprised I had held off for two days.
I exploded… I was so pissed I can't even remember what I said to him. I do remember the look of utter terror on his face before he turned and dashed for a hiding place. Lucky for me, his huge T-shirt billowed behind him like a kite's tail waving in the breeze. I seized a handful of shirt and yanked. I pulled him backward so intensely he became airborne. His arms flung away from his hurtling body and frantically tried to catch or slow down his sudden change of direction. The T-shirt stretched, the collar tightened around his throat and cut off his shriek of surprise and fear. His lower back smashed into my bent and poised knee and the impact from his careening body caused him to curve in a backwards `C' around it. The wind would have been knocked out of him if he'd been able to force anything past his constricted airway. I released his shirt and let him fall to the floor in a trembling heap at my feet. I used my foot to roll him onto his side and he laid there in a fetal position. His eyes rolled sickeningly in his sockets in an attempt to plead for mercy. He sucked air past his traumatized throat in short, raspy and painful bursts. Bright red spots stood starkly out on his cheeks and his paled face emitted total shock at his current situation. He tried to drag himself away… he grabbed two handfuls of carpet and attempted to pull his weight away in an erratic retreat. I took two quick steps until I stood in front of his attempted escape. I placed one bare foot on his small hand and leaned on it with just enough weight to make him grimace.
"Play time is over, cockroach." My voice dripped anger like alcohol into his open wounds. Keith's eyes rolled in their sockets again and he started to whimper as he vainly tried to pull his hand from under the soft sole of my foot. I transferred more weight onto his tortured hand slowly, a little more, little more… I watched and smiled as his grimace and whimper grew into an open-mouthed painful moan. The loud snap when one of his fingers finally gave up the fight and succumbed to my weight was deafening. Adrenaline kicked in and his will to survive surfaced. He jerked his arm and pulled with all his puny strength on the imprisoned hand. He screamed in agony or panic and began to strike my offending leg with his free fist. His blows were glancing at best, but his fierceness and fortitude dented my built up anger at his peevishness. I stepped back and released his broken hand. He scrambled onto his knees and then his ass. He cradled his damaged hand in his lap and pushed with his heels until he'd scooted against the wall. His eyes, bright with unshed tears, never left me as he watched warily from a few feet away. He still sounded a bit asthmatic as his little chest struggled to draw oxygen into his lungs. I showed him my dimples but he didn't return my smile. "Remember, ungrateful speck, I could have broken your neck instead of your finger." Venom belied the dimples in my cheeks. Still, he vigilantly surveilled me from his perch against the wall, but he made no reply. I picked up the new clothing and threw it at him. I chuckled as he defensively jerked away from the flying denim and told him to get dressed.
It was my turn to stare at him as he leaned his head against the wall, closed his eyes, and swallowed another whimper. I let him relax for a few heartbeats before I boomed at him to get dressed, now. His eyes flew open and his breath caught. He hastily pulled the huge T-shirt over his head and glanced to see if I was watching him. His face reddened and he meekly tried to cover his miniscule privates. I told him, with a giggle, to not bother being shy, I didn't have a magnifying glass with me to see anything anyway. His swollen and bruised finger encumbered his efforts to get dressed and several times he gasped when he accidentally bumped the broken digit. Despite his tenacious attempts, he wasn't able to fasten one of the straps on his coveralls. He refused to acquiesce until I laughingly said "Enough!" His head jerked up at the sound of my voice, he looked like a sixteen-year-old who had been caught masturbating. "I… I can't get it," he said with a combination of amazement at his own ineffectiveness and fear of arousing another tirade from me. I laughed and walked towards him. I reached down and easily fastened the strap, mentioning how useless he was becoming.
I ran one finger down his tiny cheek and my smile widened when he reflexively cringed away from my caress. The sudden vicissitude, while thrilling me, was apparently frightening Keith terribly. Now that I had him in a state of total trepidation it was time to turn the tables again. I leaned down and tenderly pressed my pips to his freshly washed hair. I felt him shudder and wrapped my arms around him as best I could, (have you ever tried to hug a toddler?) He stood, stock-still, he tried to appear stoic but I felt his breath catch again. I neither pressured him nor did I encourage him to return the hug. I heard a quiet sob escape him as he abandoned the last bit of his pride and reserve and threw his arms around my upper legs and buried his face in my temple. He squeezed with all his tiny might as his sobs poured from him in a violent flood. The words would not come for him to tell me what he wanted to say, but they didn't need to. I knew how much the last few days had petrified him. I knew he was simply trying to retain some iota of power and control when he acted disobedient or petulant. Some lessons in life have to be learned the hard way, unfortunately, and it was time for him to be jerked into reality… I didn't care how scared he was or how much he wanted to retain any power or control. He was in my world now, and I was the judge, jury and executioner. Besides, I totally got off on my small display of strength.
I allowed him to vent his pent-up emotions for several moments before I pried his arms away from my legs and roughly shoved him away from me. He stumbled and his injured hand instinctively reached for the wall to break his fall. He cried out in agony as his already misshapen finger bent into another odd angle. "Look at you! Crying like a fuckin' baby! What happened to the man who strapped on a gun and went out to protect the world? Now you're nothing but a sniveling, whiny fragment of a man. Where's all your courage, where's all your strength? You're nothing compared to me. Yet you dared defy me? You have the backbone of a mollusk. Check that, you're lower than a mollusk… you're a slug, an earthworm, a parasite. You're nothing-no guts, no courage, no strength. NOTHING. You're goddam lucky I didn't break your worthless neck."
He had tried to defensively interrupt me when I began my tirade, but he quickly thought better and hung his head in defeat. Silent creeks of tears trickled unchecked down the planes of his face. I took a menacing step towards him and almost had an orgasm when he flinched from me and raised his healthy hand in an attempt to fend me off. I grabbed his chin somewhat gently in my fist and forced his face to meet mine. I used the hem of my shirt to wipe his damp cheeks. I couldn't resist the temptation to lean down and I touched the tip of my tongue to the saltiness. I pulled back but continued to loosely hold his face. A desperate hope flickered across his features. He was a fox caught in the jaws of a bear trap who senses help approaching… he is terrified, but somewhere somehow realizes that that very help may be his only salvation. I swayed from lightheadedness as I felt his tiny tongue search my palm for an ounce of compassion. I watched as the tent grew at his crotch, my eyes jumped from there to his face and back again. He had his eyes closed and looked a bit angelic as he gave his freshman attempt at worship. The wetness in my palm was nothing compared to the wetness in my thongs and I bit down the moan trying to escape me. I permitted him to continue licking for a few seconds before I jerked my hand away and struck him on the side of his head hard enough to knock him to his knees. The blow caused him no pain but its intention was to inflict emotional distress, not physical. His head snapped around and he beseechingly looked at me with a cocktail of panic, surprise and pain.
"You are unbe-fuckin-lievable! I broke at least one of your fingers, I reduced you to a babbling, spineless worm and you still can't control your dick. As if I'd allow an insect like you to touch me with lust. What could you possibly do for me?"
He dropped his head again and began crawling away from me-which was the absolute worst thing he could do. His fear of being attacked again overrode all other emotions. His breath came in short, sharp bursts as he scrambled away from me in total confusion.
"Get your ass over here!" My voice thundered. It hurt my throat-I can't imagine how pained his wee ears were. He froze, he was afraid to continue his retreat but just as scared to come closer to me. "You'd better get your ass over here, NOW!" My voice may have dropped a bit in volume but the deadliness undoubtedly increased. He wildly looked over his shoulder at me. Not only had I stolen his strength, courage and control but apparently I also took a chunk of his decision-making abilities. Life preservation eventually commanded him he'd better comply even if it was a kamikaze mission. He rose to his knees and crawled/walked on them towards me. His slitted eyes searched for a trap. He gingerly cradled his swollen hand against his belly. Inch by inch he crawled closer until he was only half an arm's length away. His eyes wouldn't meet mine-they were fixed on my upper thighs with my arms strategically in his peripheral vision. Mistrust, stress and anxiety had him prepared to either fight or run-with flight the much more prevalent choice. I stood there and dehydratedly drank in his trepidation. I heard him mumble something and I ordered him to repeat it. "Please don't hurt me anymore," he whispered barely a decibel louder. My heart lurched and caught like a rock in my throat. I managed to reply in a voice husky with a tangled web of emotions, "don't give me a reason to hurt you."
It was a good thing I chose to become a paramedic, because I was able to splint his finger and we didn't have to go to the Emergency Department and stumble over explanations. I gave him half of a Tylenol and dragged him into the gorgeous fall day. I didn't tell him what my plans were but I leaked hints that I was taking him to the police station. That was the farthest thing from my mind, but I enjoyed keeping him floating on a small rubber raft in the ocean that was my whim. All he could do was drift along-my desire was the weather, my whim was the ocean, my compassion was his raft. One thing had drastically improved quickly and that was his orneriness. He was much more pliable, meek and quiet now as he scrunched down in his seat as far as possible. He white-knuckled the door handle and restlessly peeked out the window or quizzically glanced at me but he didn't complain or whine. He even remained cautiously quiet as we pulled into the parking lot of Gateway Park.
Overall, I think we had an excellent time playing at the park. It took him an eon to relax enough to have fun-he was concerned about being in public but he was much more nervous about my feelings and moods. I'd successfully brought his selfishness in a 180-degree tight turn so that now he was much more interested in keeping me happy. Occasionally throughout the afternoon I was the rubber band of reality around his wrist that snapped and gave him a sharp, cautionary reminder-but it was done in a playful manner. At one point, I kept him suspended indefinitely in the air on the teeter-totter. I quickly let him drop halfway down and jerked him to a teeth-clattering stop. I paused... then sat down as hard as I could and shot him to the top so tumultuously I saw next week between his ass and the wooden seat. It was just a tiny demonstration of my power and strength and we both laughed... well, ok, I laughed... he smiled. Like I said, overall it was a fun afternoon.
As we tiredly walked in the house this evening though, I noticed that the new clothes, which had fit so comfortably earlier, were now slightly baggy. The coveralls dragged the ground at his heels and hung loosely from the straps. He timidly grabbed my hand like a hopeful high schooler trying to figure out how to score at least a goodnight kiss. I gave him no encouragement because I was curious how bold he would be or what method he planned to use to charm me. He chose the gentlemanly approach-he held the door open for me as formally as a diminutive butler would. I walked in without thanking him and sat in his big, leather recliner. He bravely walked up to my chair… and then his courage ran out of gas. He stood there like Opie Taylor and if he had said `awww, shucks' I would have lost it. Inside I was chortling at his uncertainty but outwardly I maintained my aura of detachment and unconcern. "What?" I flatly asked him. He stood there mutely and I let him marinate in his indecisiveness for several seconds. I knew that if anything were to transpire I would have to make the next move.
I ordered him to get on his knees at the foot of my chair. He immediately sank to his knees and raptly looked up at me. I was dressed casually because one just doesn't wear 3" strappy sandals, garter with stockings and a short skirt to play on the merry-go-round. I told him to take off my shoes. He deftly slipped off my Keds and reverently placed them beside the chair. He leaned over as though he was a starving puppy and my feet were a full food bowl. I snapped, "don't touch me until I give you permission."
"Yes, ma'am"
"Call me your Goddess."
"Yes, Goddess."
"My Goddess… say `My Goddess.'"
"Yes, my Goddess."
His deferential tone got my juices quickly and thickly flowing. I raised my foot and tantalized his senses by barely brushing his lips with my big toe. I ordered him to open his tiny mouth. My eyes rolled back in my head as my toe disappeared in the warm cavern of his mouth. He suckled my toe lovingly yet greedily… he scraped his teeth gently along the nail and sparks flew behind my closed eyes. I lowered my foot and he kept his mouth locked on my toe as his head followed the slow descent. I dug my fingers into the armrests as he released my big toe and began licking, slurping and sucking his way over my instep to my ankle. Desire was driving me insane, I bit my lower lip hard enough to taste my own blood.
"Stop!" I cried, I tried to sound convincing but my voice cracked a smidgen. Keith obediently stopped and sat on his knees awaiting my next command. I leaned forward in the chair, placed one hand on his chest and with a rapacious shove, propelled him backwards until he was sitting on his behind. I slid out of the chair and placed my knees on either side of his slim hips. I continued pushing him as he glanced questioningly at me. I pushed until I had him where I wanted him… flat on his back. I rose to my full height… I still straddled him with one of my feet along each side of his entire upper body. I told him to look at me as I slid my pants slowly down my hips… the desire that emanated from him in heat waves took me to the precipice of composure where I dangled by a mere thread of self-control. I ran my hands over my lower belly and up to my chest. I continued the caress, I slid my hands down my sides and across my upper thighs. I lowered myself onto him in slow motion, I teased myself as much as him by moving slowly. Inch by agonizing inch I closed the gap between his drooling mouth and my dripping pussy. Arousal drove him off the floor and he dove into my nether lips. He used his good hand inside me as his tiny mouth licked, sucked and cajoled my clit into a hard knot that throbbed with desire. I don't know how many of his fingers he used, but he twisted his hand in the most delectable way and made a `comere' gesture against the front wall of my hot sex again and again and again. Guttural moans and cries leapt from my core and drove me into a completely hedonistic realm. I ground my hips against his face, I used one had to twirl my nipples while the other hand applied pressure to my lower abdomen. He groaned with desire or against the pressure of my weight as it pushed his head onto the carpet, I don't know which. He writhed under me and his fervent movements carried me into oblivion as the epitome of pleasure rocked through me again and again. I urgently pressed against his face even harder… his movements became more desperate and his hands found my ass and futilely pushed at me… his struggling brought my orgasm to new regions, wave after wave of pleasure assaulted every pore of me. My head was thrown back… a long, low cry emanated from my soul. My body jerked with the last ripples or ecstasy and somewhere in my mind it clicked that Keith wasn't moving any longer.
I slid off of him, sated and groggy, and looked down. He was an ugly color of blue, white and gray. He wasn't breathing. I felt for a carotid pulse-he had one and it was strong. We aren't taught mouth-to-mouth resuscitation but I had no other options readily available to me. I placed his head in the right position and covered his mouth with mine. I tasted my nectar on his face and felt another flicker of desire shoot through me. I kept breathing for him, I cursed him under my breath because he wasn't supposed to die yet, goddammit, what was he thinking? Minutes dragged by, his color improved dramatically but he still wouldn't breathe on his own. I stopped mouth-to-mouth for a few seconds… come on, come on, fuckin' breathe. I closely watched him and I used every scintilla of my will to get him to inhale. Finally, finally he took a shallow inspiration of his own accord. Within minutes he was breathing as normally as a person who had not been breathing at all a minute prior could breathe. He can't even die without my permission.
It took a few hours for Keith to regain consciousness, and we really didn't talk. I had carried him to bed and he woke up cradled in my arms. He sighed a little and nestled comfortably close to me. His ass was against my front and he pulled my arm tightly around him. Ludicrous. I reduced the little bastard to nothing, I fucked him to death and he still turned to me for comfort. The irony was that I held him in contempt when he was nothing, yet I was the cause of his nothingness. As my contempt grew, my desire to humiliate him further also grew. A vicious circle. I laid there, wrapped around him, until my restlessness drove me to come and write down the day's events. I return to work tomorrow night. I wonder how he'll do without me. I hope he didn't suffer brain damage from the lack of oxygen… his characteristics seemed to have withered enough as it was. If he'd suffered more damage I'd have to take drastic measures. Actually, I wonder if he'll still be alive tomorrow night?